Decoy
by airwolf addict
Summary: story 31. Someone's after Marella and it's a race against the odds to save her, but is all really as it seems?
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

"Good, good. Now bring it to the right a little, too far - left, left!" the director screeched through the radio.

"I thought I was the I was the pilot here," Caitlin murmured under her breath.

"Come around in a wide arc and land right where we practiced." He watched as the solid black helicopter swept by in a graceful arc and deftly landed precisely where it had been instructed. Something wasn't right though - maybe the way the sunlight glinted off the shiny exterior, it was a little _too _much. "Caitlin, honey, we're gonna do it again in, say, ten minutes. The sun isn't aligned right if you're going to fly so low."

"Right," she answered, a disgusted tone beginning to edge here voice. "I'm going to take a few then if that's alright," _your highness, _she mentally finished.

"Sure, sure. Just remember, I need you in position in…" he glanced at his watch more for emphasis than actual use, "Seven minutes."

In other words, she had enough time to make it to the bathroom before she had to be back out here, **if** she hurried. "I'll be there," she offered him a smile, uncaring at this point how fake it looked, because in fact she would have like to have been wringing his neck.

No wonder String was so willing to let her have this one. She had thought for a brief moment he had been exhibiting common sense, a characteristic he usually did well at proving he didn't have. He probably shouldn't be flying stunts, at least not yet. When he found out the director was Gabriel Ramirez, any interest he might have had quickly faded and she'd though that might be a good thing this time especially since last time he and Saint John had taken a job with Ramirez they'd lost the job. Now she could see how that could happen.

"Caitlin," her foreign director's assistant called, sounding more like Cat-leen than Caitlin.

"Yes?"

"Director say is ready now, _rapidmente _'fore sun sets."

"Coming," Caitlin answered, thankful the sun was setting and with it the opportunities for his "perfect" shot. Somehow she figured he could come up with something that would do with the library's worth of shots he already had by now.

"Hurry, hurry. We're running out of time."

"_You _are running out of time, I'm ready to quit anytime," she mumbled as she climbed back into the helicopter.

The sun was almost completely beyond the horizon by the time the director gave her the ok, and as petty as it might be, she was so glad they were being paid by the hour.

"Out of sunlight," Ramirez said reluctantly, "guess we'll have to make something we have work. Lukis will see to it you get the rest of your money and you can be on your way - nice working with the professionals of Santini Air again, especially someone more appreciative of my creative ability. The last ones couldn't quite grasp it, then decided they could play around and still get paid for it, that or neither of them knew how to handle a helicopter. Either way it doesn't much matter since I was sent someone who actually knew what they were doing."

She bit her tongue until it bled, but that wasn't enough to stop her. And there was no way she was going to stand for him trashing two of the best pilots she knew.

"They are both very good pilots and have logged a heck of a lot more hours than I have. If you ever had the chance to watch him fly unrestricted by your 'creative ability' maybe you would understand how good he is at it. And I'm not going to listen to you trash talk about my husband and brother-in-law."

\A/

By the time Caitlin got back to the hangar forty-five minutes later, she was exhausted and still had to fly back to the cabin alone in the dark, an idea that was growing less and less appetizing by the minute.

Or so she thought.

Chance appeared from behind a large wooden crate, an occasional packing peanut sticking to his clothes.

"What have you been up to?" she asked, bending down to give him a hug.

"Flyin'," Chance answered simply.

"What?"

"Don't get too worried," String placated, as he too appeared from behind the great box, "at least not yet," he added with an unrepentant half-smile.

"Maybe the real question is what have _you _been up to?"

"Chance helped me put away all the parts that came in," he explained, "so we decided to play pilot afterward until you came back."

"I see. You ready to head back then?"

"Had enough of Mr. Pain in the..." String began.

"I'd rather not talk about him," Caitlin interrupted, "much less see him anymore, thank you. And I don't think you gave me a fair warning before I left either."

"I was still half asleep," he argued.

"I don't think that would have impaired your judgment in his case."

"That was is probably true," he gave in, "but it should have been **something** of a clue when Sinj and I came back early last time."

"You mean when you two got fired last time."

"Yeah, that. Hey, I thought you said you didn't wand to talk about him anymore. Let's get out of here."

"Alright, let's go."

"I'm flying though," String pronounced.

"You're what? I don't think so; that wrist of yours still isn't healed."

"Hasn't stopped me yet."

"But it should."

"But it hasn't, and you're tired. I can fly just fine. It's me or Chance."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"I need you help," Michael said simply as they walked into the cabin.

"We're tired Michael, can't it wait until morning?"

"I'd prefer not to," he answered, "but my opinion isn't counting for much these days."

Was that defeat in his voice? Surely not from Michael, but he hadn't seen the usually eccentric white-clad spy like this. Even when he wasn't having one of his finer moments he looked better than this.

His mind raced back to a scene nearly seven years ago now, although it didn't seem that long ago.

_He had been standing at the bar when Archangel had walked into the cabin two years since he had last seen him. It had been a rough couple years on him, he quickly observed. The white three piece suit was pristine as always, but now he wore a dark patch over his left eye and leaned heavily on a silver crested rosewood cane and currently his left arm was cradled in a also white sling, but he strode in with all of the usual pompousness despite the limp. He couldn't say the injuries didn't appear to bother him, but rather he chose to ignore them and refused to let them dampen the enthusiasm, whether appreciated or not by the Committee and his other co-workers, he showed at his job._

This was different. He didn't have the physical injuries this time, but the emotional ones were as easily evident.

"Alright, what is it?" he gave in. Michael may not have been a friend by the first definition that came to mind, but in a way they still were. Complicated was the only word he could think of to adequately describe their relationship; complicated or not though, friends were there for each other.

"Marella," he answered. "As you already know, she was sent to France for a while, then being transferred to one of our outfits in Brazil."

"And?"

"And I hadn't heard from her since then," Michael continued. "At first I didn't think much about it, after all, she isn't under and obligation to report back to me unless whatever assignment she's currently working on requires it. I had expected to hear something back though."

"I'm not seeing the problem here."

"I didn't know there was one until today. I contacted someone there only to find out the headquarters had been attacked and taken over. Chaos ruled and no one knew exactly what had happened to her until the building was bombed. She was among the injuries."

"I'm sorry, Michael. Is she going to be alright?"

"I don't know," Michael answered honestly. "After the initial count no one has seen her. No one else on the Committee sees fit to go after her since she is no longer part of out division, but there isn't anyone available to look for her with everything else that has happened down there. Maybe I'm getting too soft, and please tell me if I am, but I think that after ten years of faithful service they ought to be able to spare somebody to at least look for her."

"I can sympathize. I'm assuming you want us to go down there and see what we can find?"

"It would be appreciated. What I really need though is your opinion. The Committee isn't going to approve any funds for you to take Airwolf to South America and I can't ask you to contribute you own funds, but what should I do? Where could I star looking?"

"It could just be a misunderstanding in the confusion," Hawke suggested. "Check back again tomorrow and see if anything has changed. If not, we can fly down there commercial and see what we can work out. Until then, I suggest a good night's sleep."

\A/

**Knightsbridge**

**8:40 am**

**The Next Morning**

"Marella," he repeated. "Yes, I know I called yesterday. I know you said you didn't know what happened, but please check again. Alright, fine. Yes, I'll hold."

Maybe he had been the lucky one spending three months in the hospital after Red Star, he couldn't help but think. At least he hadn't had to deal with the initial chaos that inevitably followed the disaster. If it was anything like this, he wasn't sure he would have been able to handle it along with the new physical disabilities.

"Sir," the receptionist returned.

"Yes?"

"There's still no record of her ever making it to the clinic here. You're sure her injuries were serious enough to require hospitalization?"

"That's what I was told, I don't _know _anything."

"Sorry sir, to the best of my knowledge, she hasn't been here."

"Thank you anyway," he sighed before hanging up; unfortunately her time hadn't been at all useful and had only wasted potentially valuable time he could have been using to find Marella.

\A/

**LAX Airport**

**Los Angeles, California**

**6:10 pm**

Voices from all directions merged into an undecipherable, constant low roar. Some people pushed by to get to their flights before they missed them, others stopping to stare at the man wearing all white.

"What ever made you choose white?" Hawke asked. He wasn't one for small talk, but for a spy white seemed a little too conspicuous.

"The good guys wear white," Michael answered absently as he prepared to empty his pockets as they neared the security guard at the metal detector.

"Nice excuse, but you've tried that one before, and I _know _you haven't worn white every day of your life."

"It's easy to find and easy to match," he gave the answer almost automatically as if he had memorized a list of answered he was supposed to give when someone asked him such a question.

"Of course it's easy - you match white with white. Why _really_?"

"Does one need a reason to wear a certain color?"

"Humor me." In all reality, he was beginning to regret ever asking the question in the first place.

"Then you answer a question first."

"What?"

"Why were you so adamant it would only be the two of us going?"

"Why does it matter? You shouldn't need a caravan to locate one person."

"Because that wasn't the reason you gave back at the cabin. Caitlin is Marella's friend too and deserves the right to go as much as you, and you didn't seem to keen on the idea of Saint John or Dominic coming along either."

"Business at the hangar hasn't been all it could be, so me missing from the payroll for a few days isn't going to hurt things; Dom does need enough pilots there to keep it open though. I didn't want to have to rip Saint John away since he just got engaged, and I didn't think it was wise for Cait to be going."

"Because of Chance," Michael finished, "you told me that part."

"That's what I wanted her to hear, although true. The real reason I didn't want her coming was because of her condition."

"Her condition? Is something wrong?" he asked in a concerned tone.

"I thought she told you, Michael; she's pregnant again, this time with twins."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

It had been fourteen hours, fourteen very long hours, since their takeoff in California and Michael found himself more and more happy that they had almost reached their destination. Other than a conversation that had lasted a maximum of five minutes, Hawke had slept the entire trip in an odd way. Somehow he managed to sleep through the child aspiring to be a jackhammer behind them, but the moment the plane hit the slightest air pocket he was wide awake. Once again Hawke was napping looking deceptively peaceful, while all he could do was to try to stretch out his leg in the cramped confines in a vain effort to ease the pain settling there. At one time he had taken many flights like this one - long and far from exciting - although then he had typically spent the time brushing up on a foreign language or reading an important dossier, but that life was in the past. Now he spent most of his time in meetings or official offices making negotiations, dealing with political affairs, and hunting down a certain billion-dollar helicopter and its pilot. The other was all behind him.

Or so he had thought.

He had to say this though, FIRM work was often very interesting, not always pleasurable, but seldom boring. At the moment he wished it could be a bit less exciting though. His desk was cluttered with things he should be doing, undoubtedly being piled even higher while he was gone, and now he had taken it upon himself to locate Marella - yet another task he didn't have time for but felt was necessary to do.

"We about there?" Hawke asked, having just woken up, this time for no apparent reason.

"Captain said we should be landing in about ten minutes," Michael answered even as they felt a noticeable drop in altitude. "Sleep well?"

"Could've been worse, at least I didn't wake up screaming and get myself thrown off the plane."

"Is that the voice of experience speaking?" the spy asked wryly.

"I didn't quite get thrown off, but there was talk - fortunately for me too, I'm more of a fly the plane than a sky diving without a parachute kind of guy."

\A/

**FIRM Clinic**

**4:50 pm local time**

**São Paulo, Brazil**

"I told you already, just like I did over the phone," the nurse insisted, "I'm sorry she's missing, but I don't know where she is."

"Did you see her at all? Even before she would have arrived at the clinic?" Michael questioned.

"As far as I know she was either injured or killed in the bombing but she never showed up at the hospital like she was supposed to. I don't know why she didn't, but as much as I'd like to know what happened, I have my orders and with all the new patients I can't go after one missing patient and leave the other three hundred." She gathered the paperwork in front of her and shoved it into a medical folder to be filed. "If you two will excuse me, I have a lot of work I need to catch up on."

"That was a waste of time."

"At least we know she never made it to the hospital, but she was on the list for sure. That means she wither left on her own or someone moved her."

\A/

**The Cabin**

**11:50 am **

Not long after he husband had left, Caitlin knew his dogged decision to leave her home despite her protests had been the right one. His leaving Chance with her on the other hand, she wasn't too sure of.

Morning sickness was something she had managed to mostly avoid with Chance; this time she was getting it twice as badly though. Actually, there wasn't anything _morning _about it. During the day she felt fine other that being exhausted from the lack of sleep at night; by the time dinner came around however, everything went downhill in a hurry. Insomnia, fatigue, upset stomach, irritability, you name it and she had it. To top it off, Chance had been nothing but whiney since Hawke had gone and had nightmares about as often as String after an extended stay in Vietnam.

Lingering tears still rolling down his face, Chance slowly made his way downstairs in search of his mother. Failing to find her, he went to the kitchen to get his own drink, soon realizing he was far too short to reach any of the upper cabinets where the glasses were stored. Pushing a chair up against the cabinet, he climbed it and onto the counter where he could finally reach the cups, and was just climbing down as Caitlin walked into the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting a drink," Chance answered. "Will you make me some cocoa?"

"I don't think hot cocoa is a good idea, it's the middle of the night. How about some warm milk?"

"Yuck. Daddy fixes me cocoa."

No wonder he's such a Daddy's boy, she thought.

"Well I'm not Daddy though, am I?"

"When's he coming home?"

Nothing but blatancy there. "I don't know, whoever he's done helping Michael I guess."

"I'm scared for him, Mommy. I don't want him to get hurt."

"I'm worried about him too, honey, but it'll be alright. You'll see when he gets back."

"I wanna go with him too."

"Maybe when you're older."

Whether to sulk and pout or simply having abandoned the idea of getting any hot cocoa, she couldn't tell, but Chance left the cup on the table and started back up the stairs to the loft toward his bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**4:12 am**

**São Paulo, Brazil**

Rolling out of the bed, Hawke tried to free himself from the demons that haunted his dreams. He sat up and raked a hand through his short hair as he got to his feet. Dragging a t-shirt over his head, he unlocked the door and stepped outside.

The warm air wrestled in the treetops in an otherwise silent world, a strange contrast to the daytime hustle and bustle. He was contemplating taking a walk when Michael appeared from behind the red hotel door.

"Everything alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. It's fine."

"You don't sound like it."

"It was a dream, nothing more."

"You never did see anyone about those, did you?

Ignoring the question, he proposed his new theory on how Marella might have disappeared. "You said the building was bombed, but never by who. Is it possible whoever blew up the place could have taken her hostage?"

"It's plausible," he agreed. "We can start on that later in the morning. At the very least, it's somewhere to start."

"Yeah," he sounded somewhat skeptical already, but it was the best thing he could think of.

"Do they always affect you like that - the dreams?" Michael's voice was low, conversational even, despite the fact he was walking a fine line with how far Hawke would expound.

"Some are worse than others. I was trying not to wake you up; next time I'll know not to waste my time."

"I'm a light sleeper, up half the time in the middle of the night anyway, but you know the FIRM does have psychiatrists you could see - more confidential and completely off the record. They're even a few with top secret clearance so you aren't having to watch every other word you say."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I managed to get this far with a minimum of visits to the shrink, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Alright," Michael conceded, knowing there was no way he could coerce Hawke into seeing anyone unwillingly, "but remember, the offer stands if you ever change your mind."

"Like I said, thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

"That's fair enough. In the meantime, I suggest you try to get some more sleep. Tomorrow's going to be long day."

"Nah, I think I'll take a walk or something instead."

"Even you need some sleep, Hawke," Michael advised, "You'll wish you had by midmorning otherwise."

"Evidently I don't need it that badly tonight because I won't be getting anymore."

"You still aren't going back to bed?"

"Can't."

"Ever?"

"Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."

\A/

"Top Secret," the curly haired agent repeated.

"I've got the clearance."

"You don't have the integrity to carry a clearance like that. Not even in your dreams."

"You're a pretty lady, you know, it'd be a shame if I had to slap that smug little grin right off your face."

"It won't get you anywhere."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Everyone else thinks you're dead, so I wouldn't be counting on a rescue. That leaves you where? Nobody will ever know. Give me the info I need and you're free to go; you can start a new life, do anything you want, a fresh start. You have, what, six doctorates? Obviously not stupid. Make the right choice and move on."

"You'll let me go? Just like that?" she asked, unbelief noticeable in her voice.

"Just like that - all I want is the information. You being dead, no one will look for you and you can slip through the chaos easily."

"How can I know you aren't lying?"

"You don't trust me?"

"Not any farther than I can throw you. There was a reason you were fired from the FIRM; you're lucky they didn't do it by more extreme measures. I would have."

"Maybe I am. Look at it this way though, you have nothing to gain by not telling me, and I'd really rather not have you tagging along, getting in the way."

She seemed to think about it for a minute before answering. "You'll back me up?"

"I'll get you there and back, you've got to get the files though."

"And then I'm free, right?"

"If you get me what I want."

"I'll do it then."

"Good. But don't think you can pull any funny stuff. You do and I won't think twice about killing you."

"I understand," Marella agreed, swallowing hard.

\A/

"Uncle Sinj, where'd Daddy go?"

"He was home last night, wasn't he? Probably just a charter or something."

"No, he wasn't home. He left with Michael."

"Michael? As in the eccentric government spy with a three piece white suit and an eye patch Michael?"

"Yeah."

"Who knows what he's up to then," he replied, rolling his eyes in a heavenward expression before heading toward the office in the back of the hangar. "Cait!"

"You called?" Caitlin O'Shaunessey Hawke asked as she rounded the corner, coffee pot in hand. "Need a refill or something?"

"Where's String?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm guessing still somewhere around Brazil. Don't ask when he's getting back either because I haven't the slightest clue."

"Brazil? Whats he doing there? Chance said something about him going with Michael, but…."

"Marella's gone missing after the new building was bombed. Michael's worried about her, the Committee won't do anything about it, and it's so chaotic down there everyone's trying to deal with the injured people who _aren't _missing, much less go on a hunt for someone who might or might not even be alive, that he took it upon himself to go after her."

"So, String didn't even think to tell any of the rest of us he was going? Or offer to let us come along? We might actually care about Marella too."

"He was trying to be nice."

"What, the usual I care about you all so I don't want you to come with me, I'd rather get myself shot up all alone line again?"

"No, more like Dom doesn't need another person to pay for doing nothing and my brother just got engaged so I'll let him spend some time with his fiancé thing."

Now he felt guilty. String was only trying to look out for everyone else's best interest and he had been slamming him for being stupid.

"Have you heard anything from him since they left or gotten any more news about Marella?"

"No."

"Will they contact you if they find out anything?"

"I doubt it," her clipped tones made it even more obvious he had upset her with his harsh remarks about her husband, but she was nearly just as obvious in the understanding she held as well. String had been known to go off on his own before with similar reasoning, but not only that. She _wanted _to be with him down there with him; she was as worried as he was, with more questions than answers. The difference was, she wasn't the one who had launched into her for a choice she hadn't made.

"Sorry, Cait, I shouldn't have-"

"I know," she answered, "you just wanted to know what was going on. I can understand that. They didn't take the Lady though, so they only way we'll be hearing from them is if they call long distance, but if I find out anything I'll tell you."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Only after much persuasion from Michael interspersed with an occasional threat from Hawke were they allowed to meet with the head of the outfit, at least that was what they had been told they would get to do. Currently they were still waiting.

"Too bad this couldn't have been a Committee endorsed trip," Michael commented idly, "I bet the wait would be shorter, flight definitely would have been better."

"What was wrong with the flight?" Hawke asked, appearing completely serious.

"Better for one of us at least," Michael amended.

"You miss the 'angels' waiting on you hand and foot?"

"Maybe I do, the room to stretch out my legs is what's missed most though."

At last, a well-dressed tall man entered, such an aura of prestige surrounding him one might have thought they were in the presence of royalty.

"I apologize for the wait, so many things have been demanding my attention since the tragic attack on out building. Since then I can't seem to get caught up. Enough idle chit-chat though, what is it I can help you with?"

Not taking twenty minutes to ask what to we want would be a nice start, Hawke though, wisely allowing Michael to do the talking.

"We're trying to locate someone who has been missing since the bombing, and were hoping you could offer us some insight as to what might have happened to her."

"Who was it?"

"Marella Duvall."

"Let me check, just a moment." He ambled casually to the 1920s style desk adorned with expensive looking trinkets and a computer. Pulling up a program and typing in the name, he watched a separate window come up on the screen; he skimmed over it briefly and shared the results of his search.

"She would have been in the weapons research department, top floor." he paused, solely for dramatic effect. "I'm sorry sirs, but the entire top floor was demolished. It received the blow first. There's no way anyone could have survived."

\A/

**The Hotel**

**São Paulo, Brazil**

**That Evening**

The earliest flight out wasn't until the following afternoon, but Hawke was thinking they couldn't possibly get out of there soon enough if they were leaving the airport five minutes ago. Michael wasn't taking the news well, not that he could blame him. And to he be perfectly honest, he was worried about him. Himself, he couldn't accept that Marella had survived ten years at the FIRM in California, yet she was suddenly reassigned to Brazil and two months later turned up dead. It was possible to be just be bad timing, but was there perhaps something more than that?

"Michael."

The government agent ignored him, continuing to stare blankly out the open window. Everything was different now; it shouldn't be, but it was. This was why when he joined the FIRM years ago they had warned him of the dangers friends were, a fact proven over and over during his career. But not like this. Hawke was a friend, that's why he was here. He was also a liability when debates over Airwolf and his loyalty to the FIRM arose. The difference was Hawke accepted the dangers that accompanied keeping the Lady and flying missions; Marella never should have been in any danger. She was in a research department for heaven's sake!

But that department wasn't always as safe as it was supposed to be either, he thought regretfully as he scanned the horizon with his one good eye.

"Michael," Hawke repeated, ripping him away from his musings.

"I don't want to talk about it." He had given Hawke his space for the most part last night and now he expected the same respect of boundaries.

"I want the bed on the inside tonight."

"What?" First off, why did it matter which bed he slept in? Secondly, what did it have to do with anything at the moment?

"You heard me, I want the bed next to the wall tonight."

"Fine, I don't care, take the bed. What is it with you anyway?"

Success, he was biting.

"I think there's something we're missing."

"What do you mean? And what does that have to do with the bed?"

"Nothing, I was trying to get your attention. I think there's something we aren't being told. Don't you find it kind of odd that she was fine the entire time she was in Los Angeles, but after suddenly getting transferred out she's dead within two months. Possible, but not likely. I think it was planned. Or she's not dead."

"Hawke, you can't live your entire life without acknowledging the odds. I always though that was one of your advantages, you don't know the odds and therefore aren't afraid of them, but whether you knew the exact numbers or not you knew they sure as hell weren't in your favor. You ignored that fact because you thought you could be the exception to the rule, you always have. That only works so long though, and obviously her time was up.

"Just because something doesn't work out the way you want it to doesn't mean it was somehow sabotaged. She's gone, accept it. This would be like me saying Moffet isn't dead. You obliterated him and anything even approaching nearby, you know that there is absolutely no way he could have survived. It's the same thing - I saw the devastation that bomb wreaked, you saw it, no one could live through that."

"I understand what you're saying, but what if she wasn't ever there to begin with?"

"She was. That is where she was assigned, and that is where her keycard said she was."

"Those things can be faked, Michael, you were a field agent once too, you know that. My gut tells me there's something more to can't give up on Marella if there's a chance she's still out there and needs our help."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"You've been good while I've been gone, haven't you?" the tall man entering the room sneered in a mocking tone.

"A perfect angel," Marella answered, wishing she could somehow escape the shackles he'd put on her wrists and ankles. If she could though, she'd have to think twice about whether or not she could actually just leave; having it out with him right here was an increasingly tempting alternative.

"Just making sure. A couple people came wanting to know what happened to you. Fortunately for you and them, they're on the first flight out of here back to Los Angeles.

Tomorrow night is when I'm planning to send you in, so you can start planning whatever scheme you intend to pull off. Just remember to keep it clean, no funny stuff or I kill you."

She nodded her understanding. "Nothing but the mission at hand, that's what we're trained."

"Good. Here's the criteria. First off, don't get caught. As you know, there will be plenty of security camera and the keycard readers are now back online, so once you get in they'll be able to follow your every move practically. Leave them wondering where you are and what you're up to. Copy the files instead of taking them so nothing is missing; I left the copier on 'accidentally' so that should speed up your escape somewhat. Any questions on that part?"

"Sounds like standard basic mission to me. When are you going to tell me what you want stolen though, or do I have to read your mind while I'm doing all this?"

"Files from the top floor on the development, creation, and action of Airwolf and the subsequent secret prototypes that have been created since then."

\A/

"So you expect me to believe Marella was in a different section of the building even though she was confirmed to be in her office only a few minutes before the explosion?"

"Yeah."

"You say that like it's common knowledge. You do understand what accusations you are making, don't you?"

"I do, but I know we can't have all the facts. Yes, people are injured; yes, it's more chaotic than usual, but for being so unorganized he sure could pull up the information to tell us she was dead awfully quick, especially since _nobody _else has _any _clue what happened to her. Besides that, because of the business they're in, companies like this have specific procedures to go through so it gets back to normal operating status as soon as possible. Out of country agents need to make contact, reports that need to be kept away from unauthorized personnel need to be but somewhere, that kind of thing."

"If, and I'm saying if, you're correct, how do you propose we catch him and rescue Marella?"

"I'm still working on that part, but I think we need to catch him in the act of whatever he's doing."

"But what is he doing?"

"What is everyone against the FIRM doing?"

"Money, Intel, or Airwolf."

"I'd say not money; there are much easier ways of getting money than bombing federal agency buildings."

"Intel or Airwolf then. But if they wanted Airwolf it would make a lot more sense to attack in California."

"True, so unless they think they have a better chance at her away from the home field that wouldn't make sense either. That leaves information. What is so important that is kept down here?"

"Nothing I can think…. Oh my…" Dropping his head into his hands, Michael uttered curses so profusely he had to switch to other languages to come up with more. "They are after Airwolf in a way. I thought we had everything so well planned too, nobody knew…"

"What? What didn't anyone know?"

"The Committee doesn't even know, no one but Marella and I. I should have seen it sooner. When Moffet attacked Red Star nearly everything we had on Airwolf was lost - from schematics, years of research, testing results, future building plans, to more ammunition and spare parts. I reported a complete loss, but not quite everything was destroyed, Hawke. Marella and I were the only ones that survived and therefore the only ones that knew about it, so we agreed to move it to Brazil - the FIRM's safest location, or so we thought - for safekeeping. It isn't anywhere near air worthy, but the armour palting prototype and parts of the schematics survived. We shipped them down there. I just hope we still do."

\A/

"Saint John," Caitlin called, an urgent tone audible in her voice as she rushed to get her things.

"What's wrong?" he asked, running into the room.

"Can you call Ellie Mae and have her pick up the boys from school?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Do it then." She picked up the keys to the jeep and hurried to her locker just outside the hangar office, then glanced down at Chance then her watch. "How soon will Dom be back?"

"A couple hours at least, why?"

"Have you called Ellie yet?"

"No, but-"

"Do it, we're in a hurry." She grabbed the flight suit out of her locker then Saint John's out of his and threw it toward him before disappearing into the back to change.

Returning a few minutes later, she grabbed Chance by the arm and called for Saint John to join her.

"I got some news from Hawke; if you haven't already guessed," Caitlin announced as she walked out to the jeep so quickly the others had to jog to keep up.

"And?"

"And they think they have a pretty good idea what's going on and it's not good."

'So what are we doing?"

"We're going down there to help, hopefully prevent someone from getting hurt."

"Does String know you're coming?"

"Get in the jeep; we have a lot of catching up to do."

"You didn't answer the question, Cait."

"No, I thought it'd be a nice surprise."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

**São Paulo, Brazil**

**Outside the Brazilian FIRM Building**

**11:58 pm**

Letting out a deep breath, she surveyed the outside of the building for any hidden security camera she didn't already know about. Finding none, she proceeded to slip around the edge of the building in the uncovered gap. It wasn't much, but it left her just enough room to squeeze by unnoticed. If it weren't for her currently having to work for the wrong side she could actually enjoy this though, she thought to herself. That and having to forgo her usual all white apparel, she mentally added with the trace of a smile. Office work just didn't off the same rush. It wouldn't matter much though if she didn't get a move on.

Swiping the keycard, she prayed the alarm wouldn't go off. Thankfully, a little green light lit up and the locking mechanisms disengaged. She was in.

Now all she had to do was avoid the night patrol on the way to the records room on the second floor. Much easier said than done she knew; with her lofty position, she knew most of the secrets of the building, but no one person was supposed to know it all. It was a great idea in theory and good for security reasons but it sure made breaking in a royal pain. But then again, that was the point. If she could make it past all the security measures it was too easy. Unfortunately, she was betting her life she could.

\A/

"For being able to be reached twenty four hours a day, Lawson sure is unavailable a lot," Michael complained, "and I don't like it. I think we need to check it out ourselves."

He crossed the room, stopping at his suitcase to pull out two guns he had somehow managed to sneak past airport security.

"I thought…"

"There are ways," Michael assured him. "You know, if you'd stayed with the FIRM long enough you could have learned these things too."

Hawke scowled at him a moment before accepting the gun. "Let's get out of here. Besides, Michael, if I'd stayed with the FIRM, there would be two of us with canes and eye patches. Then who would have saved Libya from Airwolf? Not to mention the drag it would been for you to have to share your unique sense of style with someone else."

\A/

Nimble fingers slipped around the folder of freshly copied files as Marella drew in a deep breath. She'd made it this far and only have to take out one guard who would in time wake up with nothing more than a bad headache, but the hardest was yet to come. Tucking the folders into her suit, she flipped off the light and turned to go.

Quickly making her way down the dimly lit corridors, she got to the end of the hall. Beyond the locked door in front of her was all the ammunition she could possibly want to take out Lawson for good. The problem was that thirty seconds after the door was opened if a security code she didn't have wasn't put in the alarm would go off and all hell would break loose, not to mention that fact all the guards of the facility were trained to shoot first and ask questions later.

Lock picking tool out, she set to work, pleased as the door swung open only seconds later. She was only two steps in when she remembered the motion sensor silent alarm that had been installed only the day before the bombing, and she had most definitely set it off.

Muttering inaudible curses under her breath, she reached for the Ak-47 and the Heckler & Koch G36, mostly because they were the first things she saw, and ran out, down the hallway for the stairwell.

Damaging government property wasn't on her list of things to do for the evening, but there was no longer time for niceties. Kicking in the wooden door, she took the stairs two at a time, now able to hear the guards behind her, and…

"Why me?" she muttered as she called on every ounce of energy she had to get herself out even faster. They had dogs, and if she thought avoiding human guards was difficult, that was nothing compared to the task it was going to be trying to get away from animals that could follow a scent she'd left for miles.

\A/

"You don't understand," Michael explained to the unyielding parameter guards. "We have reason to believe it's…. Never mind, it's not a real robbery though."

"To hell with this." Hawke lunged at the guard line, succeeding at getting through, although not without hitting the ground, **hard**.

The force from hitting the ground stole his breath, but he ignored it, shoving to his feet once again even as he began to be able to pull air into his burning lungs and ran towards the FIRM building.

\A/

"How did he know you were planning on coming?" Saint John asked, finding himself more and more confused.

"He kind of asked that I would."

"But you said he didn't know though."

"It wasn't a direct thing, you know String. It was just a kind of hint they were getting everything they needed and to and might need a little help."

These days he had to wonder is he was the only one not getting the message. String specifically wanted them to stay home, now he unspecific ally wanted them to some, and from what he'd last heard, was probably about to get himself into some kind of trouble running into a FIRM building that was being robbed but not really, or something to that likeness. Now. To top it off, he'd been demoted and Chance was sitting co-pilot. He had been beat out by a four year old. If String didn't have something to do with that, he didn't have a clue anymore.

"You saw the picture of this guy? The one that is supposedly the head of wherever we're going and the guy that either killed Marella, kidnapped her, or she is working for?"

"Yeah, I saw it earlier."

"And we're supposed to be catching him now, assuming we make it there in time?"

"We'll make it."

"Even with the turbos it'll be pushing it, Cait."

"I said we'll make it, and maybe if you didn't take so long to get ready we wouldn't be so close on time."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

Skidding around a sharp corner only feet away from the entrance, Marella ran headlong into the man that had just come in the opposite way.

"Hawke?"

"Marella?"

They said at the same time, a surprised look on each of their faces.

What're you doing here?" Marella asked first. "I thought-"

"No time to explain," Hawke answered, already clamoring to his feet and offering her a hand up. "You'd never make it out that way, let's try the back."

"Guards are already swarming all over it," Marella warned, not having to shout to be heard over the multitude of sirens going off.

"What about roof exits?"

"The heli pad and half the roof were destroyed in the bombing,"she explained desperately

"Then we'll just have to use the other half. Come on!"

"But there's no way to get down," she tried to tell him, but it was too late. Stringfellow Hawke had made up his mind and now there was no stopping him.

They made it up to the roof, or what was left of it, with relatively no opposition, but the guards crowded around every exit below, leaving them no where to go.

Casting a cursory glance around, Hawke looked for any possible escape route. "There," he said, pointing. "No one over there and the hillside to hide out in until this is all cleared up."

"But the only way to get down there is to jump off a three story building," Marella objected.

"Yeah, I know. I also know I'm going to regret this later," he added as he launched himself off the rooftop, dragging her along with him.

The ground rushed up to meet them far sooner than either would have hoped for. Hawke hit first rolling, cushioning the blow for Marella, but no matter how he tried to distribute the impact there was no denying how badly it hurt. At first both lay motionless, unable to breath, much less even think about evading the guards who were rapidly heading in their direction.

Every bone in his body felt like it had splintered and shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, but even as he was finally able to draw in a shuddering breath he knew that if they didn't get out of here now they might never.

"You ok?" he asked Marella as he staggered to his feet, clutching his wrist in absolute agony and finding it less than easy to put any weight on his throbbing ankle.

"If ok means in more or less one piece then yes, if it means anything more then no," she answered, but-" She stopped mid-sentence. "Oh now he doesn't!" she started to take a painful step after Lawson who was leaving the building with a stack of files and a smug grin on his face.

"Marella, we've got to get out of here..."

"But-" she protested. "He's got information on-"

"I know what he's got and that something is on its way here now. They'll stop him, but we've got to get out of here or they'll put more holes in us than Swiss cheese."

\A/

**Two Days Later**

**FIRM clinic**

**Los Angeles, California**

He opened his eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the late afternoon sunset filtering in through open blinds then took inventory of his surroundings. It was one of _these_ places again. One of those places the more he tried to avoid, the more time he spent there - more specifically known as the FIRM's clinic.

"It's about time you woke up," his brother's familiar voice greeted him, "you've been out almost two days straight. How do you feel?"

"No comment."

"You refractured your wrist," Cait said, "didn't do great things for your ankle wither. You're damn lucky you didn't break your neck."

"But it's appreciated, even if you did nearly kill both of us," Marella added from the hospital bed to his left.

"I just don't see how you got as far as you did," Michael joined in, "Not that I'm complaining," he added hastily. "But once we got everything sorted out it took a while to find you two even with Airwolf's help."

"Did you get Lawson?" Marella queried.

"We did, and you should have seen the look on his face when we came up from behind the hill."

"And he will be properly taken care of," Michael assured them. "The Committee has unanimously accepted my suggestion of getting rid of the problem permanently. Once they found out what his plans were, they also are decided to fully reinstate the Airwolf program with an increase in budget, and supposedly they're going to do much more thorough background checks, although I must admit he did quite a job at masking his previous record."

Hawke raised an eyebrow in agreement, even as his head dropped back against the pillow wearily. He'd experienced the results of the Firm's background checks. He wasn't holding his breath.

Michael continued, looking a little self satisfied." Marella, once you're better you are to report to my office at the FIRM headquarters in Los Angeles on permanent assignment, unless of course you want to spend stay in Sao Paulo. He grinned, when she shook her head no. "Hawke, I'm afraid won't be flying for a while, but now that you've rejoined the land of the living I think should be able to negotiate for your release - assuming of course, Cait wants to take responsibility for you."

Cait pretended to ponder the thought for a moment, before String glared at her. A grin seeped through despite her best efforts.

Marella rolled her eyes watching them. These were the good guys? Heaven help them all. "I'm thinking we should keep those files here in California though," she said, trying to get back to business, "or better yet, maybe we should dispose of them for good. The technology is revolutionary and it would be a shame to lose it, but I'm not sure this world is ready for more Airwolfs yet."

"Files?" Michael asked, startled, "wasn't that what you had in your suit?"

"No, I copied unimportant things, wouldn't even make sense to him; most if it was in code anyway. Didn't you get the real once off him when you picked him up?"

"No, we searched him multiple times, but there weren't any files. He said you sent you to get them but he never actually got a hold of them. I take it you're saying he was lying?"

"He had plenty of folders, and I have no doubt that's what they were."

Michael grimaced, feeling a sudden unease settle in his shoulders. _ Great, so the worst could be yet to come, he thought. And they didn't have the vaguest idea who the enemy was...  
_


End file.
